Waiting at the Bridge

Most of the night had been spent being jostled around in the surgeon's wagon, watching the long snaking line of marching soldiers inch along ahead of them into the darkness. The sawbones had re-bandaged his side after dawn and it wasn't hurting him quite so badly anymore. Not after he'd gotten used to the jarring motion of the wagon.

The rest of the army was gone well ahead now, moving over the bridge in their assigned marching orders. Newbury wasn't sure if he was glad to be left behind or not. He hated missing out on a fight but being able to catch a free ride was a rare treat. Especially since he had unfettered use of the surgeon's camp-kettle. In fact, he had hopped off the wagon about an hour before and was now sitting several yards away, a cheerful little fire crackling away in front of him.

"Good stuff," he commented, blowing steam away from his freshly-poured mug of tea. It smelled almost as good as the rabbit that was roasting over the fire on its spit. That was another advantage to being left behind. He could go hunting along the road well behind the baggage trail, without too much trouble.

Newbury glanced toward the baggage train, which had temporarily halted. Jenny Ross was back with the wagon she had unofficially taken over. Grinning to himself, he sipped at his tea. Maybe staying behind was not so bad, at least for a time.

Jenny was confused when she awoke to see daylight. She had been jostled awake so many times during the night, in spite of her exhaustion, and she had wanted to weep with fury. But now that it was actually morning... Why had they stopped? Were they going to set up camp now? It seemed backwards.

She sat up uncomfortably and stretched, looking blearily around. By now she had no idea which wagon was Maggie's, but she saw Joe not far off by one of those covered surgeons' wagons, sitting by a fire. She stumbled over to him and sat down heavily.

"What's going on, where's everybody else, and is that tea?"

Speaking of Jenny Ross. Newbury looked up when she dropped down near the fire, looking as though she hadn't slept a bit.

"There's a fight goin', or there'll be one soon. Aye, it's tea. Just finished boiling." Newbury handed his mug to her with a slight grin. "Quieter now we've stopped, isn't it?"

She took a large mouthful of tea and gulped it down eagerly before handing the cup back to him. "Bless you for that. What did you say?"

Newbury refilled the mug and took a healthy mouthful of its piping hot contents. "The lads have mostly all gone off to fight. Can't say I really mind the lack of noise from 'em all, though."

"What about them?" she asked, nodding toward the redcoats on the bridge itself.

"Oh. Them." Newbury glanced dismissively at the redcoats. "That's the 33rd. Bridge and baggage guards."

He picked up his sword-bayonet and poked at the rabbit over the fire. "Could've been a better regimment left back, though. Rabbit?" He asked, lifting the rabbit and its spit off away from the fire.

"Oh, I'd love some." The rabbit smelled delicious, but it was too hot to handle for the moment, so Jenny helped herself to another swig of Joe's tea while he was occupied. "Guards. Are they here to protect us, or prevent us from crossing?"

With another grin, Newbury used his sword-bayonet to cut the rabbit off the spit and carefully laid the two pieces onto the battered tin plates he kept in his pack. He had wondered the same thing about the redcoats himself.

"Sawbones says they're here to protect us, but I figure they'd keep us from crossin' if we tried."

"Is Sergeant Hakeswill there?" she asked. "If he is, I might borrow your skewer. Thank you, dear; looks like I came along at just the right time," she added, accepting the plate with a grin.

Hakeswill. Newbury suppressed a shudder. There wasn't much chance of Jenny borrowing anything sharp or skewer-like, if that bastard was around. Newbury would do his best to get to him first.

"If he is around somewhere," the rifleman said, "he better not come too close to the baggage train. I ain't got anythin' else to go with the rabbit, though. Sorry."

"Well if you haven't seen him, that's probably a good sign. Maybe he's off somewhere getting killed by the French. Or by the 33rd. And don't apologize - this is delicious. You can cook for me any time."

Newbury put all thought of Hakeswill out of his head. There were more important things at hand. Like food. Jenny's compliment made him blush, which made him wish it was night-time again.

"Thanks. The company don't think the same, but they can be awful picky when they want." Newbury washed down a hunk of rabbit with a swallow of tea. After a moment's pause, he mustered up the courage to ask, "How's Maggie doing?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her yet. I mean, not since I woke up. She'll be off in her own cart sleeping, somewhere. Speaking of which, where did you go off to in the night?" Newbury had slept part of the night in the same wagon with Jenny, but at some point he had disappeared, which perhaps had detracted from her ability to sleep.

Hopefully she was. And hopefully there were other camp women around looking after her.

"Went off to the sawbones' wagon," Newbury replied. "I woke up partway through the night 'cause my bandage was stickin' to the side of the wagon we was in. Didn't wake you, did I?"

"Sticking to the wagon!" she exclaimed with a horrified laugh. "Poor you. No, you didn't wake me. At least, I don't think so. I woke up so many times in the night that I lost track. I need some more of that tea. Wait here a minute." She stood up and trudged back to the cluster of wagons.

He managed an embarrassed, awkward smile. It hadn't been very pleasant to discover that he'd bled through the bandages, again. Well. It was a mixture of blood and sweat, since he hadn't yet bothered to change shirts. He'd have to tend to that before too much longer.

"Can always - all right," Newbury said, turning a slightly-rueful grin down to the mug of tea settled against his knee. Truth be told he hadn't slept very well either.

After a short while Jenny returned with her own cup and a couple of apples. She tossed one of them to Newbury and sat down. "Here you go. I just went to check on Maggie too. She's still sleeping, and Martha Jacklin's hovering like a mother hen ready to pounce as soon as she wakes up, so I'll just leave her be. Martha will know better... probably..." She trailed off and decided to change the subject. "Tell me about when you were a footman."

The apple-toss caught him slightly by surprise, but he managed to catch the fruit before it could tumble past him. He thanked her and couldn't help but smile at the thought of Martha Jacklin fussing over Maggie. Not even a flea would get near Maggie with Martha around.

"She'll all right with them," he said. And she wanted to know about his days as a footman. There were quite a few stories he could tell on that subject, that was sure. "Well. Sorta like bein' a soldier, or a redcoat at least," Newbury went on. "Everythin' runs real neat and tidy. Not so many chances to get outside and such, though, 'specially not with the butler or housekeeper barkin' after you for bein' away from your post."

"Oh, I know. I was in service once. For a little while." She helped herself to some of the tea, still hot since he had put the kettle close to the fire. "What was the house like, and the people that lived there?"

She had? That was something he hadn't known.

"It was an old house, part of an old family. Been around the Forest for longer than most folks troubled to recall. The family wasn't bad, really, 'cept maybe for the younger son. Right bastard, him. Wasn't anybobdy below-stairs that liked him." Newbury shrugged. "Master could be a tough one. Liked everything done just so, down to how far apart us footmen stood at dinner table and such. Some days I miss it."

She looked at him soberly and nodded as she listened. "And you said you had a sister. Was she there too?"

"Aye. Scullery maid - though she's probably workin' as a laundry maid now." Newbury forced another shrug and wetted his throat with a swallow of tea.

Jenny briefly frowned, and a faraway look passed over her face before she smiled again. "I'm sure she's fine. And the rest of your family? Your parents, or - do you have brothers?"

Newbury rolled the apple around between his palms, both his tea and the rabbit forgotten for the moment. "Folks lived in Buckler's Hard, Father had a cottage near the yard. I did have a brother, but I dunno where he's at now. Stupid bugger got pressed by the Navy."